Henry and Em in Oz
by KeepingUpDisappearances
Summary: After a year in Oz, Uncle Henry and Aunt Em love living in the unusual land. They especially love the peace and friendship-but one fateful night, everything changes. An unknown witch kidnaps Dorothy! Now Henry and Em must join forces with some of the most famous residents of Oz to find her-before it's too late. COMPLETE.
1. Just Another Day in Oz

"It would be a lot easier," said a creaky sort of voice, "if you two-leggeds would use wooden horses like me instead of those ridiculous flesh-and-bone creatures that get tired out."

A comical-looking sawhorse, brought to life by the evil witch Mombi's Powder of Life, though through the boy Tip(who had really been the Princess Ozma transformed through the greedy witch's spell), laid its wooden ears back at an elderly man in green coveralls, which had emerald buckles, for they lived in the Emerald City of the land of Oz.

"I love real—er, flesh horses," the man amended, as he put a poultice over a wound on a chestnut mare's leg. "I took care of them for years on my father's farm, but I was never able to afford to have my own horse farm, myself. Now I get to take care of the horses of Oz."

"Besides," said a somewhat sniffy voice, "we real horses—and I won't apologize for saying 'real'!—are so much more beautiful and faster than _you_."

"Hold your tongue, Giselle," the old man admonished. "Let's not be getting airs!"

"Getting airs!" snorted the mare. " _I_ pulled the carriage of Glinda the Good until I got too sore in the bones. She still does ride me, though, when she visits the Emerald City," Giselle said cheerfully.

" _I_ will never retire," said the sawhorse snobbishly. "And I will never die."

"Unless you catch fire," Giselle returned nastily.

"Enough!" the old man shouted. "Neither of you are better than the other. Giselle, you're going to the back paddock until you behave. Sawhorse, I will speak to Princess Ozma if you don't control your tongue. Her favorite carriage-horse should not behave so shamelessly."

With that, the conversation was over. As the Sawhorse shambled indignantly down to the main road to the Emerald City, a short man in curious yellow clothes (this was in Winkie country, where yellow was the favorite color) came to greet the old man.

"Is my Giselle doing better, Henry?" he asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, Bimbleduff?" Henry answered.

"If she can answer without speaking long enough to put me to sleep," said Bimbleduff. "Are you doing better, Giselle?"

"Yes," said Giselle. "Although Henry has not been very nice. He's ordered me to the back pad—"

"Have you been rude to the Sawhorse again?"

"Rude? Just firm. That wooden joke of a 'horse' is so impudent."

The farmer took the mare's lead-rope as he thanked Henry for his help in treating the horse's wound. Bimbleduff scolded Giselle, leading her to the back paddock as Henry had promised.

"Strange mare," said Henry to himself. "But I suppose I should be used to strange things by now. It's been a year since Em and I moved to Oz."

Uncle Henry thought of this as he left Bimbleduff's simple farm in Winkie Country and walked back to the Emerald City. A year ago, he'd gone bankrupt and had had to give up his farm—but where he, his wife Em, and their niece Dorothy would go, he hadn't known, and it had nearly broken him.

And then Dorothy, through the magic of Princess Ozma, ruler of the whole land of Oz, had quite literally whisked them to this strange country. Then Henry and Em had realized that Dorothy's odd tales about Oz were true. Henry had taken less of a time than Em to really admit that everything as 'normal', after a while, but he never ceased being fascinated by this odd but peaceful empire.

"I'm home, Em!" he was saying just a short time later, as he entered his and Em's chambers in the royal palace of the Emerald City.

Em was sitting in the living room, studiously mending a beautiful dress that shimmered like mist and had all the colors of the rainbow.

"That's good, dear," she said, not looking up, "but I must concentrate on mending Polychrome's favorite dress. She is going to the ball with Dorothy tonight. I declare, a year ago I would have laughed silly to think there was such a thing as a rainbow's daughter."

"And she's a good girl, that," said Henry. "I thought that she'd be vain, being the rainbow's daughter, but she isn't."

"And quite beautiful, when she's in flesh-and-blood form," said Em.

Polychrome could transform into a woman (or at least take on the body of a woman), though she was often in the form of a shimmering mist.

"Are _you_ going to the ball, Em?"

Em smiled. "Yes, but don't expect me to dance," she laughed.

"Well, I'd better be off to the Treasure Room," said Henry. "I need to take accounts, after the Gnome King had to pay for trying to invade Oz. Of course, our good Princess Ozma doesn't care about the jewel's themselves, but she knew what would hurt the King most would be having to give them up, the greedy creature!"

Though Henry helped the farmers with their animals and crops, his actual job was managing the storehouses of Oz and portioning out money and jewels to those who needed them (after careful scrutiny to make sure that they'd use them honestly and well). For Ozma was generous and kind, not hoarding treasure for herself.

"You know," Henry said to his wife, "I feel more at home now in this strange place than I ever did on our little farm in Kansas."

"Me, too, surprisingly," said Em. "It's a queer land…but after getting used to it, it's quite a charming place, and everyone here is so wonderful. It's lovely to see how happy Dorothy is, too—and that's the best of all."


	2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

The great ballroom of Princess Ozma's palace was spectacular that night. Of course, it was always grand, though tasteful, with its green marble floor, silver columns with flowering vines carved into them, and a huge glass dome that looked out into the sky. Now, though, it was even more beautifully decorated for the dance. Much of the decoration had been done through magic.

"It's so stunning!" gasped Em as she and Henry strolled into the ballroom.

"It's magical—quite literally," said Henry in an awed voice.

Birds of colored glass were flying overhead, gleaming in the light of the chandelier. A spell had made the carved flowers on the silver columns flutter like real flowers in a breeze, and they constantly changed color. Beautiful emerald-green flags embroidered with 'OZ' were draped around the windows.

A young woman perhaps twenty years old, wearing a pale-blue sheath dress that complimented her dark hair (which was tied back with a pink gingham bow), eagerly greeted the elderly couple. As you might have guessed, she was Dorothy.

"I haven't seen you all day, Uncle Henry and Aunt Em!" she exclaimed.

"I was doctoring the Farmer Bimbleduff's horse, and I was balancing the accounts after the Gnome King's debt was paid," Uncle Henry explained.

"I was busy fixing Polly's dress, and I made a dessert for tonight," Aunt Em added.

"Did someone say my name?" a musical voice said. A most beautiful girl sailed toward the three, and stopped at Dorothy's side.

"Hello, Polly," Henry and Em said cheerfully.

"Thank you for mending my dress, Aunt Em," said Polly—who, of course, was Polychrome.

The shimmering dress with its subtle hues of lavender, peach, green and blue flowed around Polly, but its wearer was even more beautiful. Slim, shapely Polly seemed to dance even when she was walking. She had beautiful, sparkling eyes that were violet in some moods and blue in others. Polly's smile was peaceful, but there was often a hint of mischief in it. Silky cornsilk-blond hair tumbled down her shoulders.

"You look absolutely lovely," Em said.

"Spiffing," Henry approved.

Just then, the great silver doors opened and more guests filed in. Henry and Em greeted everyone as easily as if the guests were just ordinary people. The Tin Man, the Scarecrow and the Brave Lion—he hadn't been cowardly for a very long time—returned the greetings eagerly. So did Scraps, the patchwork girl; Elise, the queen of the China Country, who was protected by Glinda's anti-breakage spell; the king and queen of Bunnybury; Jellia Jamb, the head maid of the palace; Tik-Tok, a mechanical figure that would be called a robot today, and many more.

"This is so exciting! I've never been to a ball before!" an earthy voice said excitedly. It belonged to Bizmuth, a gnome that had rebelled against the king who had tried to invade Oz. She'd been accepted in Oz after revealing where the Gnome King had hidden himself.

Just then, a sound of trumpets made the guests draw back to the sides of the ballroom. The doors opened once again, and three Munchkins wearing uniforms of green came forward, playing the anthem of Oz. When they finished, they turned to face the doors.

In strode Princess Ozma, and everyone bowed. Ozma was no more than a young girl, perhaps sixteen years old, but she was a wise and kind ruler. Her pleasant face was even more beautiful than her flowing dark hair and pale green gown.

"My friends," she said warmly, "it is a pleasure to see all of you! But I will not bore you with a speech. Let the music begin!"

The Munchkins' trumpets became celestas and flutes and oh, what beautiful music they played! Even Em danced with Henry to a tinkling waltz, and then, at the Shaggy Man's polite insistence, danced with the latter to a merry jig.

At one point the celestas and flutes became banjos, and, to the elderly couple's surprise, the Munchkins played a quick, catchy country tune that they had loved back in Kansas.

Dorothy grinned.

"A little music from our old home," she said gleefully, before Button-bright—who now insisted on being called by his given name of Saladin—pulled her away to dance. He was wiser now, though still charmingly silly.

After some time, the 'flesh and blood' guests were hungry and thirsty after all the dancing. Ozma pointed an emerald wand at the back wall and conjured up a table full of food. Em's cherry pies got the most compliments, to the humble woman's surprise and pride.

"You need to make this more often," Princess Ozma said enthusiastically, and Em blushed at the lovely ruler's compliment.

"Why—I—why—it's just a simple family recipe—nothing fancy…" Em stammered.

Dorothy started to laugh her merry laugh, but it was cut quickly short. Suddenly there was a great crash; the glass dome of the ballroom had shattered, but not by any outward force. It just—shattered.

The candles all around the ballroom suddenly became a strange red color. The terrified guests screamed and backed away. Ozma, however, raised her wand, poised.

Something flew through the broken dome and landed on the floor. It was a large hawk with blood-red eyes and crimson feathers—or so it looked in the strangle red light.

"Reveal thyself!" Ozma said, aiming her wand at the hawk, but before she could complete the spell, the hawk shivered—grew taller—changed shape—and suddenly a beautiful but fierce and hard-faced creature stood before the terrified crowd.

This intruder was humanlike in appearance, but her face was too hard and cold, her hands too clawlike to be quite human. As the Scarecrow said later, "she _must_ have _been_ human, but did such evil things that there was very little human left in her."

"My, my, my. What a merry party," said the—whatever it was in a sweet yet unnerving voice. She casually ran a hand through her hair as if she was perfectly right to have come to the party in such a manner.

"Who are you?" Ozma asked fiercely, her wand trained on the being. The Lion and a fearless wolf named Winterspell came closer, growling.

"I," said the intruder, standing up so tall that her black cloak fell back from her shoulders, "am Whimalith, daughter of…Elphaba."

The crowd gasped. Ozma pointed her wand at Whimalith.

"Elphaba! The Wicked Witch of the West!" everyone gasped; they'd never forgotten her cruelty.

"Great intruder, then return, to the place where you were born!" Ozma shouted.

Whimalith dodged the spell, whirled, and aimed a bone-white wand at Ozma. Seeing the cruel look in her eyes, the lion and the wolf leapt at the former, snarling, but some invisible force sent them crashing backwards.

Whilamith muttered something terrible, and Ozma collapsed.

Polly changed into her mist form and was able to get through the witch's invisible shield—Polly had "had a feeling" that only physical beings were repelled by the shield. Once within the shield, Polly took on her human form again, and tried to disarm the witch—but Whilamith threw her aside. Polly crashed to the marble floor with a groan.

"How—dare—you!"

Dorothy bravely but heedlessly ran at the witch. Whilamith smiled cruelly and grabbed Dorothy's arm.

"Just who I wanted!" she cried.

The Tin Man, terrified for his friend, ran forward. He sensed that the witch had let her shield down in grabbing Dorothy and ran at the terrible creature. He took aim at Whilamith with his sharp axe—but there was a sudden bang and a shower of feathers, and the witch was gone.

And so was Dorothy.


	3. Whimalith Triumphant

The candles on the walls, in their silver sconces, became yellowy-white again, but the ballroom was dimmer because the chandelier had fallen. Bits of wax were splattered on the floor and among the broken glass and, crumpled on the floor, were Ozma and Polly. Most of the crowd was too stunned to move at first, but the Tin Man hurried to his beloved ruler and gently shook her. She roused—slowly—and helped her to her feet. Meanwhile, Winterspell gently nipped Polly, which made her stir and arise.

There was a sudden moan among the crowd; what had happened suddenly sank in for Henry and Em.

"Dorothy!" Em screamed. "She's gone! She's gone! That witch will _kill_ her!"

Ozma, now remembering what had passed just moments ago, shuddered, but walked resolutely to comfort the elderly couple. Henry was just staring at nothing, his face grey, looking broken.

"My dears," said Ozma gently, "I am so sorry. I wish I knew what to say…but, I assure you, we will try to find Dorothy."

"I should hope so," Em said miserably.

Just then, one of Ozma's pages came to her.

"I don't mean to interrupt, your majesty, but Bizmuth found this on the floor. It must have gotten there by enchantment."

Ozma, Henry and Em read aloud to the gathering from a piece of parchment:

 _To Ozma and the citizens of your land:_

 _I am sure you have noticed that I took your beloved Dorothy. It is with great glee that I announce that I've finally accomplished what I've been trying to do for years—avenge mother! For years I was trapped by a great enchantment cast by the wizard Baumaforth. He had punished me after I killed his impudent daughter (though she deserved to die for being such a rude bint!) The spell broke when he died a week ago. I'd have gotten my revenge faster if it hadn't taken me so long to learn transformation (and may I say, transforming into a bird is a difficult bit of work. Consult me if you want to improve your magic, Glinda—ha ha!) But I digress._

 _Don't worry—Dorothy will not be harmed if she is a good and faithful servant. But if she tries anything funny, she'll be dashed upon the rocks under my castle in the Obsidian Mountains! You must hope she toes the line! Ha ha!—Whimalith._

"She'll die," sobbed Em. "Anything will set off that witch!"

"I'll kill her," growled Henry. "I'll find her and kill her!"

"Find her?" said Em. "How? All we know is she's in the Obsidian mountains—I know those are at the edge of the north border, and very wild and treacherous!"

"But it's _some_ clue," Polly said, adding in a puzzled tone, "why would Whimalith tell us that?"

"She thinks we'll be too afraid to try," the Shaggy Man said. "I know the type. Whimalith is too proud—thinks she's the bravest of all."

"It is late; we should get some sleep," Ozma said suddenly. "With clear heads, we can think more sensibly in the morning."

"How can I sleep with darling Dorothy missing—maybe even dead already?" mourned Em.

"I will walk you to your chambers, and put an enchantment on your bedroom to help you sleep. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. Adalhi"—this to her page—"copy out Whimalith's letter, then fetch one of our delivery owls and send it to Glinda. She's probably read of this tragedy in her Book of Records, and will want to read the letter."

Then she led Dorothy's distraught relatives away. Guests murmured words of sympathy as they passed; those who could cry said the words through tears.

"If it hadn't been for that witch's enchantments, I would have torn her to pieces," snarled the Lion.

"And I could have taken her down with my axe!" the Tin Man said.

"I'm going to go with the search party when it's organized," Polly said fervently, her eyes blazing with fury. "I _hate_ that witch!"

"Meanwhile," said the Shaggy Man, "I suggest we all depart and come back in the morning, like Ozma said."


	4. Strange Magic

A solemn meeting was held in Ozma's throne room the next day. Henry and Em, still grieved but now resolute, were of course among the (very large) gathering. Even Glinda had temporarily left her duties as ruler of the Quadling country to help form a plan for saving Dorothy. It would be challenging, however.

"Can't you find Dorothy with your Magic Picture?" Em asked Glinda anxiously. "Then we'll know exactly where to go."

"I thought of the very same thing, Emmaline"—Glinda always called people by their full names—"but Whimalith has protected her castle with a spell that requires terrible deeds to be successful, and—"

"But they can't be back at her castle _already_ ," argued Henry, too distressed to realize he'd rudely interrupted. "We have to overtake them!"

"Did you not see how Whimalith travels?" snarled the Lion, affronted at Henry's breach of etiquette. "She transforms into a bird, and it is much faster to fly."

"Easy, Lion," Ozma said mildly, while Henry looked chagrined.

Glinda continued to speak.

"Let me explain further about the spell. When I ask the Magic Picture to show me where Dorothy is, sometimes it will show the Emerald City—sometimes the China Country—even your Kansas—and I realized that the spell causes the Picture to only show places Dorothy _has been_. The exact location of both of them, as well as the castle's location in the Iron Mountains has, I reiterate, been hidden."

"There's no way to break the spell?" asked the Lion.

"Yes!" Henry exclaimed desperately. "You can, can't you, Lady Glinda? You're the most powerful sorceress in Oz! If you can do it now, the spell won't have power, and we can bring Dorothy back like you brought us all from Kansas, with your Magic Picture."

"No," said Glinda grimly. "I cannot. Not without terrible Dark Magic to equal Whimalith's; it is the easiest way, but dreadful things would have to be done to do it, and though it would bring Dorothy back, there would be terrible consequences. Dorothy would not be off any better than she is now if I dealt with cursed magic. We must fight Whimalith fairly, hand to hand if need be. We'll go to the Iron Mountains. I can detect the spell better then, and find weaknesses in it."

"Like finding flaws in a fort," approved Henry.

"I never realized magic could be such an accursed practice," Em said bitterly. She gave Glinda and Ozma an apologetic look, but plunged on. "Perhaps your world would be happier without magic."

"Have _your_ former world's people," Ozma returned coolly, "not managed to do terrible things themselves, without magic?"

Em winced. Henry's farm had been in danger of foreclosure just a year after the start of what would be someday known as World War I. What horrors had happened in those two years! That was part of the reason she, Henry, and Dorothy never wanted to use Glinda's Magic Picture to look upon their world again, though Glinda had told them, a year ago, that the war had ended finally. But the trio from Kansas had preferred ignorance, for better or worse. They didn't want to know what great price had been paid.

"I see your point," Em said humbly.

"What we must do now," said Ozma, changing the subject deftly, "is prepare for our journey."

"And decide who to go," piped up a musical voice. "Such as a rainbow's daughter, who can change form and go where 'solid beings' can't. I'd be a good asset."

Several of the assembly turned and looked at Polly, in her human form, who was looking very hopeful.

The Shaggy Man smiled. "She has a point, you know," he agreed, winking at Polly, who beamed.

"All right, she's in," laughed Ozma, "but we must decide who else, and quickly."

* * *

I have altered Dorothy's age from 15 (in the first chapter) to 20, so that I could use WWI as an allegory about how there is as much evil in the human world as well as the magical world, as well as give more 'reality' to the story. Dorothy's age was ambiguous throughout the original 'Oz' books, but I think in the first book she was a very little girl, five years old.


	5. Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road

After much deliberation, privately, with Ozma, Glinda announced who would be in the search party. Now, many of the crowd who'd come to the ball had stayed in the Emerald City after the tragedy; some to offer support and comfort to the citizens of the Emerald City, some who were desperately hoping that they could help save the beloved Dorothy.

"Bejamin Maize"—Glinda nodded toward the Scarecrow, "Nick Chopper, and the Lion will be leaders. They helped Dorothy on her first adventure in Oz, and have been alongside her ever since. Polychrome will prove useful, too, I have no doubt…"

Polly smiled broadly.

To Bizmuth, Glinda said, "you're very wily and clever, and have _some_ powers that might help on the journey."

Bizmuth's eyes opened wide, and a pleased smile lit up her distinctive face, which usually looked much like a stone carving. The short, gnarled gnome was little, but she had become much braver—and better—since leaving the influence of the evil Gnome King.

Glinda's eyes fell upon a distinguished-looking female centaur—the only centaur in all of Oz.

"Belila, you have an incredible knowledge of healing plants and remedies. I want you to go."

"Of course, m'lady," the centaur said humbly.

"And finally," Glinda said, "Henry and Emmeline."

" _What?_ " Henry and Em gasped together.

" _Us?_ But we're old and haven't anything special to contribute, really," Em said.

"Nonsense," laughed Glinda, coming up to the Kansans and smiling kindly at them. "Do you feel old? Do you think you two are bad off?"

"No," Henry admitted, "not since we came to Oz. There's something—rejuvenating in this land. But we have nothing special to offer."

"You have your love for Dorothy," Polly said cheerfully. "We want you to help! How—well, we'll find out when it happens!"

So it was decided.

It was a very busy time then, for preparations had to be made. Henry, Em, Bizmuth and Belila, needing to eat and drink, gathered water pouches and knapsacks of food. Belila found in the gardens of the Emerald City herbs and plants they might need if there was injury or illness on their journey and tucked them into a corner of her bag of food. The humans, Polly, and even the centaur (she wore a loose silk sash around her human chest and torso) packed extra clothing.

Uncle Henry, who was used to taking care of horses, accidentally offended Belila when he asked her if he might bring along a blanket for her "if it should get cold or the flies bother you".

"What! Strap a blanket to me as if I'm some common _horse!_ " Belila exclaimed, her blue eyes flashing. "I should think not!" and she indignantly tossed her long blonde hair and swished her blond tail.

"Pardon me," Uncle Henry said hastily.

The Sawhorse was to go on the journey as well; he carried the supplies, and was proud to do so.

"I cannot tire, and I don't mind the weight," he told Belila primly. "I can do more than just look pretty and read planets."

Belila said something rather nasty in return, but perhaps the Sawhorse needed some injury to his pride. He sulked, and it would be long into the journey when he would speak to Belila again.

Henry and Em rode horses that the farmer Baumaforth had lent them; indeed, Uncle Henry's mount was none other than Giselle. Surprisingly, the Sawhorse didn't antagonize Giselle or the other horse (a black mare named Onyx). Perhaps he admired the spirit they showed when it was explained where they'd be going, and why.

"Baumaforth speaks highly of Dorothy, and Ozma, too," Giselle said cheerfully. "I think it's important to rescue the good beings of the world."

"I'm ready for an adventure!" exclaimed Onyx, bucking.

"Don't do that while I'm riding you," warned Em.

It was decided that the party should enter from the most open point of the Obsidian Mountains, on their east side, which would be, of course, easiest from the travelers. Bizmuth had wondered that they would not go from a narrower passage to sneak up on the witch's realm, but the Scarecrow had rebuffed her wisely.

"That is what Whimalith _would_ expect. We'll do just what she'd think we wouldn't do—take it from the most passable, most obvious, easiest side."

"The brains the Wizard gave you must be very good indeed!" Bizmuth had exclaimed.

Early the next morning, the search party departed, with everyone from the Emerald City, and a scattering of guests from the night of the ball, following them to the great gates of the city.

"Goodbye! Good luck!" they cheered. "Be safe!"

The Lion, the Scarecrow, and the Tin Man went out first, three abreast, followed by Henry and Em astride their horses. Belila walked alongside, and the horses felt flattered that a centaur would walk right next to them, as if they were equals and not—in their minds, at least—simple horses.

They followed the Yellow Brick Road for about ten miles until they struck a river. The Scarecrow said:

"This is the White River. It goes almost directly to the Obsidian Mountains. We'll follow it as long as we can."

The journey was very pleasant, or it would be for some time. As they travelled along the high bank of the river, the horses and Belila trotting merrily, the Scarecrow told clever jokes and the Tin Man told of his very first adventure with Dorothy and the Scarecrow, and then the later fell to asking riddles.

"What," interposed the Scarecrow, "has hands but can't hold anything, a face without a head, and feet that can't move?"

"Hum—hum—hands that can't hold anything—face without a head—feet that can't move…" Henry mused.

"I know!" Polly said laughingly, dancing from one traveler to another. "It's a clock!"

"So it is!" the Scarecrow confirmed. "Clever girl!"

By noon, the "meat creatures", as the Sawhorse called the humans, the horses, and the centaur, were hungry. Henry and Em and Henry were feeling a bit stiff on their horses, too boot.

"Ah, that—what is it called—looks delicious," Belila said, as Em unpacked a plate of muffins she had packed.

"Pumpkin muffins," said Em. "Will you have one?"

"For sure," Belila answered cheerfully. Em handed her a muffin, and the former ate it delightedly. " _Delicious!_ "

Gisselle looked curiously at the centaur. "You like 'human food'?"

Belila allowed herself a rare grin. "Well, I'm part human and part horse. I like hay and oats, but I like desserts too, and most other things humans like, except meat."

To prove this, Belila ate half a bag of oats just a few minutes later.

Then the meat creatures rested for a while—a short while. Their thoughts had quickly turned back to Dorothy and the danger she was in, and they did not want to tarry when she was in danger. Granted, Henry and Em felt rather stiff getting back on their horses, but not as tired as one might expect for two elderly people who'd toiled on a prairie farm for years. Em commented on this herself.

"I can barely feel my legs, but I feel as young and spirited as I was when I met Henry," she said with a sly smile toward her husband.

"Oz is like the land of youth," Henry agreed. "I don't think we would have held out much longer in Kansas."

"I'm glad we'll have more years to enjoy Dorothy. And when we do…leave—well, I needn't worry about her anymore; she's got good friends and a good home here."

Then Em frowned worriedly. "I just hope we'll be able to get her back to the ones she loves, and the ones who love her."

The party was silent for a while, until they came upon a narrow, rocky ridge. The horses stopped short and looked at it in alarm.

"Trapped!" cried Giselle.

"We can go down to the river and walk around it," Onyx proposed.

"The water in the river is too deep," the Scarecrow said. "Look, though, see the tops of those shrubs? That means the drop down isn't very bad at all. I think you horses can do it. Just be careful."

" _Are you crazy?_ " thundered Onyx.

"Oh, let's try it," Giselle said in resignation, and before Uncle Henry could say a word, in one swift trot and a leap, Giselle was down; she landed cleanly as if she was the finest steeplechaser from England. Henry had managed to hold on, too. Onyx and Aunt Em came along a few moments later. The ridge really wasn't as bad as it had looked. Even the wooden Sawhorse got down without trouble.

Just a few feet away from the bottom of the ridge was a very long line of tall, colorful grasses, neatly manicured and trimmed. The travelers looked at it curiously; the grass was far too neat to be growing wild. Fascinated, and unable to go any other way without losing the river, they pushed their way through.

And what a sight met their eyes!


	6. Chittersqueakachip

To clear any confusion there might be:

This story is mainly inspired/based on the original series and original characters. I just borrowed the name of 'Elphaba' from 'Wicked' but everything else is simply based of the books. I did have to get some information about the Oz universe from the Wizard of Oz Wiki because it's been years since I've read some of the books in the series. Anyway, carry on!

* * *

They looked upon a great meadow; scattered among the grasses were oaks and maples. This wouldn't have been so surprising if they had just been the kind of oaks and maples you might see in a park or forest anywhere in our world. These were different. There were _doors_ cut into the trees, and windows with colorful curtains behind them were cut out, too. Some of the windows were open, and the curtains fluttered in the breeze.

"I've seen a treehouse before," Polly said excitedly, "but never a tree that _is_ a house!"

"I wonder who—or what—lives here," Em said, half-curiously, half-nervously.

There were many paths winding through the trees, but there was nobody to be seen.

"Forge ahead!" said the Scarecrow. "We have to go this way, anyway! Let's not get nervous _now!_ "

The company headed down the widest path. They gazed curiously up at the windows, but whomever lived in those trees was either out, or did not want to be seen.

Suddenly they came into a clearing, and they looked in surprise at that, too. All were looking upon a great town square; around it were shorter trees that were lit up inside, and there were curious objects in the windows; these were obviously shops. There was a large, officious-looking tree with grim iron doors, and a flag (a black acorn on yellow ground) fluttering in the breeze above them.

In the middle of the square (which was paved with pink brick, embossed with acorns) was what looked like a bandstand.

Then the all stood quite still. Coming out of a shop was—

 _A squirrel._

And what a squirrel it was!

"Land o'Goshen!" Em gasped. "That squirrel is as tall as you, Henry!"

The squirrel startled; some dark objects rolled out of a box it was carrying—acorns.

" _Intruders!_ " the squirrel screeched from across the square. "How come you _here?_ "

Em and Henry backed their horses into the edge of the forest. Even from across the square, they saw the squirrel's flashing eyes and bared, sharp teeth. It looked menacing, even in its faded green overalls and straw hat.

The Scarecrow raised his hand.

"Peace," he said. "We're just passing through."

"All right," the squirrel said grudgingly, "but I will call the Acorn Guard if you try any funny business!"

"Push on," said the Tin Man, and the party moved forward, slowly and respectfully. Soon they were all gathered around the squirrel, who seemed to have suddenly noticed the lion, and jumped so that more acorns rolled onto the ground.

"He won't hurt you," said Polly, patting the lion. "He's a _tame_ lion."

"Wait a minute," the squirrel said suddenly. Now that he had gotten over his surprise, he really had a look at the guests.

"Why, you're the Cowardly Lion that Princess Ozma told us about (she brings us news and stories from Oz). She said you were a very good lion."

Then he turned to the Tin Man.

"You must be Nick Chopper, ruler of the Winkies! Our old king, Oak-Tooth (may he peacefully rest), once had me go to your land to get tin to make chutes for harvesting nuts."

"We have many buying from our tin factory, so you must excuse me if I don't remember your patronage," apologized the Tin Man.

"Never mind," the squirrel said cheerfully. "And you all are—"

For he didn't recognize the rest of the party; there were introductions all around, and the squirrel was satisfied that the odd gathering would do no harm.

"I suppose I shall introduce myself, now," said the squirrel. "I'm Feather-tail—but everyone calls me 'Tay'. I'm the Supervisor of Planting for our nut farms."

"Nut farms?" echoed Henry.

"Of course, we need to eat. We have nut-orchards out at the western edge of our country."

"But what _is_ your country called?" Polly asked.

"It's called Chittersqueakachip."

"Chitter-whatta-chip?"

"Never mind. The name is in our Old Language, which is a tricky language. Translated, it means 'The Valley of Many Acorns', though we grow many different nuts now."

"Tay!" a distinctly feminine voice suddenly called out. Running up to Tay was a short, slim squirrel wearing a pink cotton dress.

"Who are these intruders? I hope you aren't getting familiar with complete strangers!"

Her exclamations had brought other squirrels running from the shops, some looking alarmed, others looking curious. Tay introduced every strange "intruder" and assured everyone that they were perfectly safe.

"Still," a deep voice called, "they must go to the Queen to explain why they are passing through; until then, they must stay in sight."

Stepping past Tay was a tall squirrel, taller than Henry. He was dressed in clothes that somewhat resembled a uniform that a soldier from our world might wear; at his side was a long scabbard with the handle of a sword gleaming above it. Em blanched when she saw that.

But the squirrel was not hostile when he said formally, "I will take you to our queen—well, those of you who can fit In the doors," he added, looking at the horses and the centaur.

The horses and the centaur didn't feel insulted, for they were interested in the squirrels. Just then, two young girl squirrels ran up to the horses and the centaur squealing with curiosity and delight at the unusual, beautiful creatures (there were no horses in Chittersqueakachip, and the young things had never heard of centaurs.

In the meantime, Henry, Em, Polly, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow and Bizmuth were ushered into the building with the iron doors. This was done by the squirrel in uniform, who finally introduced himself as General Whiskers, head of the Queen's Guard.

They came into a long hall with a floor of highly polished oak. The maple-paneled walls were hung with paintings of Chittersqueakachip's kings and queens. They walked, and walked, until at last they came to two golden doors. Motioning to the others to stay back, General Whiskers peeped in and said in a rush:

"Your Majesty—I have outsiders. They came in today. They swear they mean no harm, and Tay says they're good."

"Let them in," a fluty voice said.

"Bow when you see the queen," the general said, sotto voice, before everyone entered.

The room was round, with beech walls hung with elaborate tapestries. The ceiling was one great dome of delicate pink glass, which gave a very pleasant light. From it hung the flag of Chittersqueakachip, much larger than the one above the iron doors.

But for all the room's magnificence, it was nothing compared to the creature that rose from a gilded hammock and stood, looking at them all. The "outsiders" bowed at once, while marveling at _this_ squirrel.

The queen was wearing a delicate tiara of gold, inlaid with sapphires in the shape of acorns; a long robe of leaf-green silk fell from her shoulders to her toes. Her fur—a glossy black, to the surprise of the visitors—shimmered in the pale pink light. But it was not just her attire that awed the outsiders; it was her bearing; regal, commanding, and sure. Her shrewd eyes showed wisdom and discretion. They knew she would not judge the outsiders until she knew about them.

"Queen Onyx," the guard whispered to the others.

"Outsiders, hmm?" Queen Onyx said smoothly, striding forward. The others bowed again. "And what brings you to Chittersqueakachip?"

"If you please, Your M-Majesty," Em said nervously, "we did not mean to intrude upon your beautiful country. We are journeying to save my niece, who had been taken by the evil witch Whimalith to the Iron Mountains."

The queen looked amazed.

"She _is_ a most cruel witch," she said. "You are very brave. Many years ago, she enslaved some of our people with her magic. She made them carve furniture for her castle, and we had to use many of the trees we grew for food. Nobody dared disobey her. Sometimes Whimalith would come unannounced to see how we were getting on, and used any excuse to be cruel to us. I think she liked being a bully."

"No doubt," said Em.

"But one day, she just stopped coming—poof! We squirrels eventually stopped our constant work, for she never showed, just like that! Its' been many years since we've seen her. We thought—hoped—she'd died."

"No," Em said sadly, and told the queen the whole story.

When Em had finished, Queen Onyx looked at her gravely.

"Yours is a noble quest, and I wish to help all of you. Follow me, and I will give you some things to help you on your journey."


	7. Queen Onyx's Gifts

The search party (minus the centaur and the horses, as I'm sure you'll remember) was lead from Queen Onyx's throne room to a small room filled with swords, armor, and, interestingly, a shelf full of crystal bottles of all sizes and colors. The queen took a small, round, pink bottle and gave it to Em.

"Use this wisely," Queen Onyx said. "It is a cordial made from one of the rarest berries in our land. It can counteract the deadliest poisons and heal wounds—but only use it when absolutely needed—when all other cures have failed."

Em put the little bottle in her dress pocket with extreme care and buttoned the pocket up again twice.

"I'll be very careful with it," Em said. "And thank you so very much."

Em sounded stiff and overly formal in the presence of the squirrel queen, but Queen Onyx understood.

"Henry," the regal squirrel said, removing a gleaming sword and silver scabbard from the wall, "you may need this along your journey. Use it judiciously. Do not spill blood when there is no justice for it."

"Thank you, Queen Onyx," Henry said graciously. "And I hope I shall never fall to thinking 'might makes right'."

The Scarecrow and the Tin Man, who usually walked ahead of the group, ever since leaving the Emerald City, each received a pair of what we would call binoculars now, but very intricately made, with unbreakable lenses—the lenses were crafted from diamonds. Queen Onyx didn't have anything for a lion, a rainbow's daughter, or a gnome, but she gave everyone some wise words, and told them to pass her message on to the centaur and the horses.

"Whimalith's magic is dangerous and the foolhardy will not escape her," the squirrel said bluntly, and then continued on in a softer voice. "Remember this, though—even the greatest of that witch's spells is not as powerful as love."

Queen Onyx saw them as far as the outer gate of the kingdom, along with Tay and a number of other residents of the fascinating squirrel country. Climbing up a rise yet again, the reunited party once more had the river at their sides and they continued to follow it, slowly but steadily on their way to save beloved Dorothy.

* * *

A shorter chapter this time, to serve as a short 'intermission' between the time in the squirrel country and the next phase of their journey.

I borrowed the idea for the curative in the crystal bottle from 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' by C.S. Lewis.


	8. An Aggravating Bird

After leaving the squirrel kingdom (or queendom, if you will), very little happened. There was little to see and little to do; and, though it got tiresome, it was also a relief, for less excitement meant less danger. Three uneventful days passed; the party paused to rest or eat as little as possible—at least, the ones that needed food and sleep had to.

Then, on the morning of the fourth day, when they had had to turn away from the river for a few miles due to an impassible swamp, the rescue team came to a bridge over a great ravine. No matter; it was a solid, safe, bridge. Except—

"Excuse me, madam, are you trying to cross?"

Belila, who'd been wandering ahead, gasped and jumped backward as a tall, long-necked bird came out from behind one of the two wooden columns that flanked each side of the bridge.

"Of course I'm trying to cross. We all are," Belila said primly.

"Not until you answer some riddles," said the bird, suddenly gleeful. "I love making riddles."

"Fooey," Bizmuth said rather rudely. "We don't have to answer your silly riddles!"

Running ahead on her funny, short legs, she raced for the bridge—but before she even set toe on it, some invisible force knocked her down.

"Where are all of you heading?" the bird asked, arching her neck and lazily flicking her blue-gray wings.

"The Obsidian Mountains," the Scarecrow said, stepping forward. "If you please, ma'am, we've no time for riddles."

"But following the route after the bridge is faster. Unless you want to take more time…"

Pausing in her speech, the bird chuckled. "I'm Harriet, by the way, Harriet Blueheron. Now, what is your answer? Remember—I have a little spell on this bridge, just a tiny bit of magic I acquired (it's a long story), and the bridge won't be passable until the riddles are answered."

"All right, we'll have it your way," the Scarecrow relented irritably.

"If the Obsidian Mountains you wish to see, you must answer these riddles three," Harriet sang. "Who's first? Wait! Don't say anything. We'll start with you, Scarecrow. Now, answer this: _Houseful, skyful, can't get a handful._ "

"That's easy," the Scarecrow said. "It's air."

Harriet gave a loud, disgruntled croak.

"Okay, who's next? You there—the funny, little, short thing."

" _Funny_?" Bizbuth cried. "I am a dignified gnome! What have you got, Harriet Blueheron?"

If Harriet's long beak had permitted her to grin, she would have. In her most patronizing voice, she posed the next riddle. It was clear that the bird did not take the little gnome seriously at all. Bismuth knew this; she squared her shoulders, and waited for Harriet's new conundrum.

" _It is always around except when it's not, and is never around but always is/_ "

There was a long pause; nobody said anything, since it was Bismuth's turn for a riddle, but even they could have answered in her place, it would have done no good, for everyone was stumped, even the wise Scarecrow. Truth be told, as much as everyone really loved Bismuth, they underestimated the unlikely-looking gnome. Bismuth did answer, however.

"Darkness!" Bismuth said triumphantly. "We don't see darkness in daylight, so it's not really there, except that it is—it's just hidden by light!"

"A clever girl," Harriet said coldly, disappointed at her defeat. "There is one more riddle, however. You—you old human woman—answer this!"

And Harriet asked:

"If you give this away in great measure, you have more of it."

Aunt Em, who'd come forward bravely but trembling, was stumped. This riddle did not make sense at all! If she could not answer it, they would all have to take the long way around, and every delay could lead to doom for Dorothy. Whimalith was a proud and temperamental witch; even the slightest thing that Dorothy could do to displease her could put Em's great-niece at risk. Time was more valuable than gold now.

 _I'm trying, Dorothy!_ Em thought wild, though she knew the young woman couldn't hear her thoughts.. _It may be that we have to go out of our way for days, but I'll try. I'm thinking. What could it be? It's impossible to give something away and get more back. But I must answer so I can get to you as fast as possible. I love you!_

Then Em knew.

"Love!" she gasped. "It's love, isn't it, Harriet?"

"Yes," Harriet said grumpily, as everyone around Em cheered. "Go along. Hmph, I must think of more riddles!"

As a sulky Harriet Blueheron watched the rescuers walk freely over the bridge, everyone cheered and congratulated Em, but soon fell into their sober mood again. If they made good time, they'd be at the Obsidian Mountains in three days, but so many things could happen before then!

The terrain was better now, and they were able to steer back toward the river again. Belila, who of course knew the movement of the planets, had a good sense of direction due to her knowledge of how the sun moved (or how the earth moved around the sun, of course, but centaurs don't get so technical). Everyone felt a little better as they wandered through open fields, though Dorothy's fate was still heavy on their minds.

In the afternoon, when they took a quick break for lunch, Em went to pick some low-hanging fruit from a pretty little tree, but she came back shrieking.

"What is it, Em?" Henry asked in alarm.

"A _bug_ as t-t-t-tall as you!" Em panted. "Oh, it was awful!"

"What?" the Scarecrow chuckled. "I bet I know who it is. You needn't be afraid!"

"Professor Woggle-bug!" the Scarecrow shouted. "Come over here!"

"She won't try to smash me?" a distant voice asked.

"Of course not! She couldn't even if she wanted to; have you forgotten you're Highly Magnified?"

To Em's initial distaste, the tall, somewhat grasshopper-like insect came over; her fears disappeared, however, when the insect politely bowed to her, bending his body that was all of six feet.

"I am pleased to meet you," the Woggle-bug said in a dignified voice.

"I beg your pardon," Em said. "I shouldn't have been afraid! I should've seen you were no ordinary insect."

"It is no matter," the Woggle-bug said. " _Errare humanum est_. To err is human."

"Don't show off, Professor," the Tin Man warned.

"You're a professor?" Em asked.

"Not right now. I've decided to take a year off and explore Oz. Where are you all going?"

"To rescue Dorothy. Do you know her?"

"Of course! Oh, dear, she's in trouble? This is not good. But perhaps I could be of assistance!" Professor Wogglebug said all at once.

"If you promise not to pepper us with your pesky conundrums," Polly said, wincing. "We've have enough of those."

"The Professor might prove useful," Henry said justly. "You seem highly educated, Professor; perhaps that will come in useful."

"Then I will join you!" the Professor said.

And so, the odd party continued on—two humans, two horses, a centaur, a fairy, a gnome, a lion, a scarecrow, a tin man, and a giant insect. It was quite a sight, but they all had something in common—their concern for Dorothy.

* * *

I have been crazy busy lately, which is why it's been a while since I worked on this story. I hope this chapter didn't seem too out-of-place. I love the parts in the Oz books where there are jokes and riddles and I thought I'd try my hand at it with Harriet Blueheron.


	9. The Dark Castle

After the incident with the heron, very little occurred until the rescuers were just a day away from the Obsidian Mountains. Bizmuth had had a run-in with a venomous fox, but the healing potion that the squirrel queen had given them fixed up the terrible wound.

"We just need to be careful to conserve the rest," Em had said judiciously.

A few hours after _that_ , as they travelled through a barren field, the sharp-eared Henry heard something moaning in pain.

"Someone's in trouble," he said. It didn't take long to find the injured creature, a young hawk with a vicious slash from its chest to its ankles.

"Help…me…" the hawk croaked, managing to open one bright yellow eye, which he fixed on Henry.

"I'll be right back," Henry said quickly.

Hurrying up to the group, he asked for the bottle of healing potion. Em's eyes widened.

"There's not much left," she protested.

"That hawk's _suffering_ out there," Henry said. "We've had good luck so far. We just need to be careful. If Queen Onyx hadn't given us the cordial, we wouldn't know the difference."

"I think Henry's right," the centaur said. "We centaurs have a saying, 'to those who give mercy, mercy is given'."

"If you think it's best—," Em said reluctantly.

Henry took the bottle and almost ran back to the hawk, whose feathers were now soaked with blood. The bird gave a feeble croak and looked up pleadingly at Henry, who patted the hawk's head soothingly.

"It'll be all right, bird," Henry said soothingly. "I've got something to help you. Now, be still. This might hurt a little, but it will help."

And Henry sprinkled a few drops on the hawk's wound; the bird flinched, but did not protest. The wound healed a little, but not completely; after several seconds, Henry shook his head and smiled at the hawk.

"I guess I need to use more," he said slowly, and then, almost reluctantly, applied the last of the potion to the hawk's wound. Slowly but surely the wound healed itself. The hawk gave a shriek of amazement, stood up, and flapped her wings. Henry smiled as the hawk then began to screech joyfully.

"You've saved me," the hawk said. "You had pity on a humble little hawk, and even used the last of your healing tonic on me."

"How did you know…?" Henry asked.

"I recognized the bottle; Queen Onyx of the squirrels once employed me to find the berries for the potion, for they grow very high some mountains on the edge of the Deadly Desert."

"So you know her, too," Henry said idly.

"You'll be glad, I'm sure, of your act of mercy," the hawk said cryptically, before flying away on cinnamon-red wings.

At long last, the party arrived at the Obsidian Mountains and found the opening of the largest passage into the mountains. Everyone was very stern and solemn now; it was time to find the stronghold of Whimalith. It was not an easy journey among the rocks; the horses and the centaur kept slipping, and Henry had to fashion "boots" for them, out of part of the leather satchel that held the food and healing herbs.

The tin man advised skirting the center of the mountain range first and then slowly working their way into the center. They also decided to act at first as if they were lost, and then work their way in.

"Try to fool Whimalith," the tin man said. "Trick her into thinking we have no plan, though we do. The castle might be in the center, for there is flat and level ground there."

"I just hope it'll fool her. I wonder if she can watch us from afar, or uses spies?"

"Spies," a voice suddenly said. The horses startled; from behind a rock came a fearsome-looking animal, very much like a lizard, but with large, flat scales that glittered in the sun, and a ridge of horns down its back. The creature pulled its mouth into what looked like a smirk.

"Whimalith has never been able to work the spell called the 'all-seeing eye', but why would she need that when she has spies like me?"

"Are you going to kill us?" Em asked. "Or bring us to her and have _her_ kill us?"  
"Neither, if you turn around!" the lizard-creature said.

"Never!" Henry said, and suddenly drew his sword, leaping off his horse and lunging for the lizard.

"Henry, _no!_ " the Lion said suddenly, leaping between the lizard and the elderly man.

"What? Get out of the way!" Henry cried.

"He's done nothing to provoke you," the Lion snarled. "He didn't attack you."

"We need to get by!"

"Then we'll turn back a ways and figure out a new plan," the Lion said.

Henry wasn't listening; he dodged around the Lion and aimed for the lizard's scale-less throat. The lizard fell backward, looking terrified; the Tin Man tried to intervene, but Henry pushed him aside.

"Don't kill me," the lizard pleaded pathetically. "All right, I'll take you to her, you don't have a chance anyway."

"I don't trust you," Henry said, sounding almost crazy. "Those with her, must die for her."

"Henry, he hasn't done _anything_ to us!" Em said. "Do you not remember what Queen Onyx said? This—this—animal has done nothing to warrant spilled blood."

Henry relented.

"All right, I won't harm you, er—," he began.

"Steelscale," the lizard said, still fierce. "Whimalith will know what to do with you. Follow me."

Through treacherous roads, Steelscale steered away from the center of the mountains and went northwest. After what seemed like ages, the odd group came up a draw, and before them was a castle of dark red stones with black mortar, and turrets of rusted bronze. There were several guard towers on top, and odd-looking animals looked down, some with fearsome objects—no doubt weapons—in their hands (or paws). They looked disapprovingly at Steelscale, no doubt knowing Whimalith's order to turn back the intruders or kill them, but said nothing.

There was a moat of fire around the castle, but Steelscale said some queer words, and a bridge materialized. With another admonition against "any funny business", they all crossed the bridge, and came to tall doors of black metal; in blood-red letters carved on it, they read:

THE CASTLE OF WHIMALITH, MIGHTY QUEEN OF MAGIC

BEWARE ALL WHO ENTER HERE.

"Prepare to face the mistress of magic," Steelscale said, and with one scaly foot, rapped three times on the door, the metallic ringing crackling in the tense silence.

* * *

Kind of an abrupt transition in this chapter, but I'm starting to run out of ideas. I'll be finishing this story soon though.


	10. Castle Battle

The doors swung open on their own accord, revealing a long hallway lit by torches that lined the walls. The light glittered eerily on the red marble walls, and though the hallway was large and airy, there was something foreboding about it. The 'clomping' of the humans' feet, the Lion's soft but heavy tread, the metallic clank of the Tin Man as he walked, the clicking of Bizmuth's clawed feet, even the crunch of the Scarecrow's hay-stuffed body as he walked, echoed in the cold silence of the hall. Only Polychrome was silent, for she had materialized back into a mist in her fear.

"I hope the horses and the centaur will be safe," Em said, to break the silence; the former had been ordered to wait outside.

"Safer than you'll be, if you don't mind your P's and Q's with the witch," Steelscale said.

The party came to a set of spiked doors. Steelscale said something in a strange language, and what was most definitely Whimalith's voice answered back in the same language, disembodied, but cold and unnerving.

"Whimalith says you may see her," Steelscale said; the doors melted away and everyone looked into a huge throne room; the walls were covered with rubies, the floor was of white marbled, and the windows were of beautiful stained glass. There was still an air of oppression, though.

"The whole place was just—rife with dark magic," the Lion had observed later.

But right at that moment, everyone's eyes focused on a throne of burnished bronze. On it sat Whimalith—her face still as cold, her hands still as clawlike. And next to her, on a marble chair, sat Dorothy. She was dressed in servant's clothes, yet was primly groomed; this surprised Em a little—she'd imagined that an evil witch would dress Dorothy in rags and keep her working morning 'til night.

"You're surprised by how well Dorothy looks," Whimalith said, looking amused. "She hasn't put up a fuss since her first night here—she realizes that I treat my servants well when they realize that if they respect me, _I_ respect them. And living here, with the most powerful witch in Oz, is better than staying at that frilly place that Ozma-the-Goody-Two-Shoes calls a castle! Is it not, Dorothy?"

Dorothy smiled, and it was worse than a look of anger. The smile was serene, yet uncanny; it was as if someone else possessed Dorothy's soul. The wicked witch's brainwashing had worked well. Em felt sick as she gazed at her beloved Dorothy's eerie expression, and Henry felt as if he was in a bad dream.

"Dorothy?" Em ventured. "We've come to rescue you!"

"Why would you do that?" Dorothy asked, in disdainful tone. "I am learning much from Whimalith. She has powers far greater than that of Ozma or even _Glinda_. She's been oppressed—but her time will come. Whimalith says if I'm very good, she'll teach _me_ some magic. I already watch her work some spells."

"Whimalith is using you," Henry said. "You're almost a slave."

"The work is hard," Dorothy said coolly, "but I am important to her. And it's real work, too—not just decorating for silly balls or helping plant a garden. I've only been here two weeks, and already I've cooked dinner for the cleverest minds in Oz, and Whimalith has trusted me to gather ingredients for the clever spells she's practicing."

"What clever minds?" demanded the Lion, suddenly. "The cleverest minds we know are good, and would never come here."

"Oh, _them_?" Dorothy sniffed. "You mean, like the Wogglebug?" (the giant insect looked offended) "or you, _Scarecrow_? And that self-centered Glinda? Your cleverness is too impractical. You never use it to get ahead. No, these people are the one's who've been oppressed by the ridiculous rules against so-called 'dark magic'."

"I suppose, you mean we never use cleverness for evil," Bizmuth cried in disgust.

"Evil? There is no evil! There is no good! There is power, which helps us get ahead. And don't start plying me with the ridiculousness about the power of love or some such nonsense…"

 _Love._

Suddenly, something in the back of Em's memory came to her—far, far back, faint—but enough to make her stand straighter and and gain new hope. She remembered the words that Queen Onyx had spoken before the rescue party had left Chittersqueakachip.

 _Even the greatest of that witch's spells is not as powerful as love._

"Dorothy," Em said gently, "your uncle and I love you. Don't listen to that witch."

"She's right, you know," Henry said pleadingly.

"Love? What a ridiculous notion! Besides—this weakness called love—you never had it for me anyone," Dorothy said in that voice that was not her own. Even her blue eyes were still cold. "You just took care of me out of duty, Uncle Henry, because you were my father's uncle.."

"I value you," Whimalith said in a sickly-sweet voice.

"Yes, you do," Dorothy murmured robotically. "She makes me feel important, giving me big responsibilities."

"Dorothy, don't be silly. She's using you as a _slave_! Don't you want to come back, to have happy times in Oz again, like we used to? We can go for picnics with Princess Ozma, or go for a canoe ride. Remember when we took a canoe ride all the way down to Bunnybury?"

Something flickered in Dorothy's eyes, a hint of empathy and happiness, but they turned cold as soon as Whimalith interjected.

"Don't listen to these silly little memories," the bad witch scoffed. "Why waste time on frivolous activities when you can help me conquer Oz? Our time is coming."

"See that? She's using you to gain an end!" Henry said, but then softened his tone. "We care deeply about you, Dorothy. When you were blown away in that tornado—it was like our own lives had been taken away. We had never felt so empty before! We knew we would not care how long it took us to recover—if only we had you there! And you coming back was such joy!"

Dorothy's face cleared slightly, but Whimalith was quick to jump in.

"How silly to recollect something so many years ago! You don't need them anymore, Dorothy."

"We need each other," Em said, as Dorothy gave everyone in the rescue part a cold smirk. This was to Dorothy, not to the witch. "You remember why we came to Oz? So we could be happy together, and have no worries. And it was your idea, because you care about us so much."

"And we care about you," said the Lion. "Don't we, my friends?"

"Greatly," Bizmuth said solemly.

"Of course we do; that is why we are here," Pollychrome said, materializing suddenly. Her voice was sweet and plaintive.

"We would risk much more than we already have risked to save you," the Scarecrow said tenderly. "Oz won't be the same without you."

"Love has united us," the Tin Man said. "From the very day you came to Oz for the first time."

"I love you, too, Dorothy," Bizmuth repeated. "You were the first one to trust me, after I rebelled against the Gnome King."

"I don't know you as well," the Woggle-bug said, "but I know you are greatly loved."

Then, slowly, so slowly, the coldness left Dorothy's eyes, and she gave a real smile. Whimalith's eyes widened in horror as Dorothy spoke in here natural voice.

"My friends!" Dorothy said, almost crying. "My dear friends!"

She leapt from her chair and went flying into Em's arms, and then Henry's; she embraced everyone else, three times over. By then, Whimalith recovered from her shock, and narrowed her eyes at the group.

"You're a fool, Dorothy!" she said. "But, go if you must. I don't want to see any of you again. Steelscale, see them out!"

"You're—letting us go?" Dorothy gasped.

"Sure," Whimalith said. "When I come to power, I'll take down greater people than you! I have no worries!"

Everyone in the group was startled, but made no arguments, of course. They followed Steelscale out of the throne room, through the hall, and out of the castle's main doors; stepping into a blood-red sunset, they turned to Steelscale to ask the best way out of the mountains. They didn't see the lizard, however; suddenly, without any apparent metamorphosis, something was standing in its place. This 'something' was formidable dragon, ten feet tall, with spikes on its back and spikes on its sides. It whipped around, trying to knock everyone into the fiery moat; Henry slashed at the creature with the sword, but there was only a ringing of metal. The dragon had no vulnerable spots! It was preparing to swing again, and it had sidled closer this time.

Belila valiantly shot an arrow at the dragon's throat, but Steelscale—if it was still Steelscale—no longer had that weak spot.

"Oh, I think I'll watch this," Whimalith said, laughing; she had come, unnoticed, onto the bridge.

"How ill-prepared," she said. "And I would've thought Glinda or Ozma would've gone with you, at least for a false sense of security. Too bad."

"Glinda did say she was going with us," Henry suddenly realized. "She—she left us on our own!"

"No, she didn't abandon us," the Scarecrow said. "In all the excitement of preparing for the journey, I forgot to tell you that she thought we might be able to conquer Whimalith better, rather than depending on her—Glinda's—magic; she said that working together would be better."

"I suppose that's true," said Henry. "Besides, someone needs to keep the rest of Oz safe."

"If you believe all that," Whimalith said. "Steelscale, destroy them!"

The dragon twitched his tail, prepared to give a great sweep, but there was a rough, shrill cry, and something flew at him. The hawk! The hawk that Henry had rescued slashed at Steelscale's eyes; Whimalith started to mutter a spell, but it was too late; blinded and confused, Steelscale toppled off of the bridge and into the moat of fire.

"You!" the witch cried. "You'll pay for this, bird! _In the name of the darkness and the fire, in the name of the blackened mountains higher—,_ "

Henry rushed at the witch, sword raised; surely now was a just time to use the weapon. Still, he did not relish this; ever since unjustly attacking Steelscale at their first meeting, he'd felt overcautious. He didn't really find any _triumph_ in killing, even for justice…

But the witch was starting to get to the end of her spell. Luckily, she was also focused too much on the hawk, who couldn't get away, as Whimalith was hypnotizing her at the same time. Henry stabbed Whimalith straight through the stomach.

"What—you commoner! How are you killing—me-e—e-eee."

Whimalith's words of shock ended up in a garbled splutter, and then she was dead. Her body turned to soot and blew away in the wind.

"It's over," Henry said faintly, just as the hawk landed before him.

"My debt it paid," the hawk said.

"Indeed," Henry said. "Goodspeed to you, Miss Hawk, and may you ever stay safe."

The hawk screeched happily, and then, with the faintest flutter of wings, sailed into the fading twilight.

"Now the Obsidian Mountains are safe," said Henry. "We will find a cave to camp out in."

"Why not stay in the castle?" asked Dorothy.

"We don't know what else lurks there," said Henry. "Not even you, Dorothy; I assure you, Whimalith kept many secrets from her vulnerable servant. When we get back to the Emerald City, we'll tell Glinda how to find the castle, and I know she will purge it of the last of its dark magic, with the castle's mistress gone."

I think I needn't say that the night was spent not comfortably, but they slept well enough, comforted by the fact that Dorothy was with them once again. Their journey back to the Emerald City was less eventful; they stopped in Chittersqueakachip to return the sword, and Dorothy was introduced to the kind squirrel queen.

"You used the sword only in the most dire circumstance," Queen Onyx said. "You showed great wisdom, Henry. Em, you showed kindness by telling Henry to use the last of the potion to help the hawk. And you all— _all_ —showed extraordinary courage."

The party, and Dorothy especially, was welcomed back to the Emerald City, and indeed all of Oz, with great joy and celebration. Everyone told the story of the journey and the fight at Whimalith's castle at least three times.

Glinda did indeed use her magic to purge the last of the evil enchantments and terrible creatures from the dark castle, and then there was a marvelous celebration. So many came that the party had to be held in the great courtyard, and there had never been such joy and thankfulness.

* * *

I know this ending may seem rushed. I tried to keep it as exciting but coherent as possible. I wanted to draw this to a close because it was affecting my concentration on some original fiction I'm writing. Any continuity errors you may find in the story are unintended and I apologize. :)


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